Addie’s Adventurer
Quinn Valley Ranch Book Nine
by Amelia C. Adams
With thanks to my beta readers—Amy, Cheryl, Joseph, and Mary.
Cover design by Erin Dameron-Hill
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Table of Contents:
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Epilogue
Chapter One
“Thank you!” Addie Collins called over her shoulder as she exited the diner, her lunch sack grasped tightly in her hand. Sammi had made her Coke exactly how she liked it—mostly ice—and she was looking forward to a few quiet minutes to sit down and relax. Inventory had been kicking her trash all morning—it was time for onion rings.
She crossed the street and was only a few buildings down from her shop, Quinn Valley Collectibles, when she noticed a pickup truck parked in front—a pickup pulling a small trailer. A familiar-looking trailer. Her feet froze where they were, which wasn’t all that surprising because there was a ton of snow on the ground, but this was an emotional freezing rather than a physical freezing, and she just needed to pull it together and keep walking. But she couldn’t. Instead, she ducked behind the sign the gourmet coffee shop had set on the sidewalk, the one saying “Coffee … a liquid hug for your brain.”
There was no movement from inside the vehicle. She watched it carefully, wondering where the driver had gone. Until she saw him—or her—she wouldn’t know, and then she’d spend all this time not knowing and hiding behind this sign, which really wasn’t big enough to hide her anyway, so she had no idea why she was even trying.
“What are we doing?” she heard a voice whisper over her right shoulder.
She glanced up to see Ambrosia Dubois hunkered down next to her, peering around the sign much like she was. “We’re trying very, very hard not to be seen,” she replied.
“That much, I figured out for myself. Who do we not want to see us?”
“That’s the problem. I don’t really know. It could be him, or maybe it’s not, but if it’s not, it’s a pretty big coincidence, don’t you think?”
“I don’t believe in coincidences. We all have threads that are jumbled up in the big ball of yarn that is destiny, and those threads intersect and diverge throughout our lives. You going to tell me the story before I get a kink in my back?”
Addie peered around the sign again, then scooted back and stood up in the shop’s doorway, keeping her face turned away from the truck. “If I’m not mistaken, that truck and trailer belong to an old boyfriend of mine.”
“Ooooo. That’s interesting.” Ambrosia peeked again. “How old? I mean, how long ago did this relationship end?”
“Five years ago. Right before I moved to Quinn Valley. That was actually part of why we broke up—he thought I was crazy to buy a souvenir shop in a quirky little town, and I thought he should support my dreams.”
“And now he’s here. Well, that’s not a coincidence. A coincidence would be, he had no idea this is where you live now. He’s got a definite reason for being here.”
“Yeah, and I’m afraid I know what that might be.” Addie sighed. “Well, I’d better head in there and get it over with. Standing out here isn’t going to solve anything. And my lunch is getting cold.”
Ambrosia reached into her pocket and pulled out a crystal. “Here—take this with you. It’ll help.”
“Oh? What is it?”
“I . . . I don’t actually remember. But it’s pretty, and if things get out of hand, you can always flick it at him and take his eye out.”
Addie laughed. “Okay, that works for me. Thanks, Ambrosia. I’ll catch you later.”
Ambrosia waved and flitted off down the sidewalk, still managing to look like a hippie fairy even when bundled up in a winter coat. Must have been all the fluttery scarves. She said they helped keep her connected to the wind. Addie just thought they looked pretty.
She pulled in a deep breath, exhaled, and stepped out of the safety of the doorway. She could do this—she totally could. She had a magic rock, after all. Perfect for flicking in people’s eyes.
She unlocked the shop, flipped the sign back to “open,” and walked over to the counter, where she put down her food. It should still be all right—the diner double-dipped their onion rings for crispiness, and that might be the saving grace on this day.
Then the door opened, and that idea went up in flames.
“Jason Miller,” she said as he walked toward her. “As I live and breathe.”
“Hey, Addie.” He glanced around. “Cute place you have here.”
“Thank you. I’ve really put a lot of myself into it.”
“I can tell.”
Except that he’d only glanced—he hadn’t really looked. That irked her. How could he tell if he hadn’t looked?
“So, what brings you to Quinn Valley?”
“Oh, I don’t know. This, maybe?” He held up a sheet of paper. “My article on Louisiana Falls seemed to have sparked some ire in one of my readers. I received this comment via the interwebs. I quote: ‘You seem to have a natural dislike for small communities and their charming customs. The way you write about their festivals and traditions, you sound like an imperialistic New Yorker, paying five dollars for a special cup of coffee and getting your socks dry cleaned. Instead of writing about these places from such a dispassionate viewpoint, why not take a few minutes to get to know the people and find out why their local traditions mean so much to them? Step out of your comfort zone once in a while, would ya?’”
Addie pressed her lips together and looked out the window. “I didn’t think the website’s comment form actually went anywhere.”
“Well, it does. It goes to my managing editor, who happened to think your idea was brilliant. She called me and told me to choose a charming little community to visit, a place where I could get to know the people. She said it might be a good idea for me to visit the hometown of my commenter. Imagine my surprise when she forwarded me the review and I saw that it was from A. C. of Quinn Valley, Idaho.”
“In all fairness, I’m sure there are other A.C.s in town,” Addie said. “That doesn’t have to be me.”
“Except that you just said you used the website’s comment form. And that you’ve often criticized my love of expensive coffee.”
“All right, yes, it was me.” Addie shook her head. “Listen, Jason, I’m glad you got your dream job—I know how much writing about travel means to you. And I shouldn’t have said what I said. I was just . . .”
“Reaching out and hoping to reconnect?”
“What?” She looked at him, horrified. “Is that what you think this is? Um, no. Not at all. I was ticked off at your attitude and wanted you to start appreciating what a smaller town can offer you. You’re so smug and holier than thou—you should take a lesson from people who have grown up next to each other their whole lives, as you described them in your article.”
“You disliked my article so much that you memorized parts of it?”
“That part stuck in my brain because of its particular odiousness.”
He shook his head, looking exasperated. “I get it, okay? You moved here, you bought this little store, you made yourself a life here, and you think it’s your job to defend every little town in America from the likes of big bad me. Are you still mad at me that I didn’t want to move here with you? Is that what this is about?”
“No, because I’m a ton better off without you. And I’ll be honest—you’re better off without me. We weren’t a good fit.”
“So, what is it, then?”
&nbs
p; “I happen to love my tiny little town and its quirky people and its festivals and people who have known each other since birth. And it may not be for you, but I don’t think it’s your job to try to dissuade other people from coming here.”
“I’ve never said one word about Quinn Valley in any of my articles.”
“I didn’t mean Quinn Valley in particular—I meant small towns in general.”
Jason sighed. “Well, whether I like small towns or not, here I am, and my editor wants an article about the place. And that really annoys me, by the way. I liked my job because I was free to roam the country and write about whatever struck my fancy. Now I’m stuck here until I can come up with something that passes as a suitable commentary.”
“Oh, poor boy. And to think, you might even enjoy yourself while you’re here.” Just how long would that be, anyway? How long did it take to write an article? This was her town—she didn’t want to share it with him for one second longer than necessary.
“If you get annoyed with me being around, just remember, this is your fault. I’m here because of your letter.”
“Trust me—I’m already blaming myself.”
“All right. Just so long as we’re clear.” He puffed out a breath. “First things first. I need to grab some lunch, and then I need to find a campground. Recommendations?”
“The diner right over there for lunch, and there’s an KOA about a mile down the road.” She indicated which way with a nod.
“Thanks. So, I guess I’ll see you around.”
“Yeah, I guess you will.”
He gave a short wave, then stepped back outside, and she slumped against the counter.
Jason Miller? Here? If she’d known that writing one little letter would dredge up the ghost of boyfriends past, she wouldn’t have done it. Now that she thought about it, she really had no solid reason for why she’d done it. Ego? Probably—she’d always struggled with that. It was so awesomely delicious to be right—how could she not enjoy feeling that way?
And what was up with all that bantering? She didn’t remember feeling so antagonistic toward him before. Were they really angry with each other, or had they taken flirting to a whole new level? And if that was the case, why was she flirting with him? That should have been the last thing on her mind.
She grabbed her phone and punched a button. Monique wasn’t supposed to have her cell phone turned on at work, but luckily for Addie, Monique was a rule breaker.
“Hey, Mo. It’s me,” she said when her friend answered.
“Smee? Is that you? This is the veritable Captain Hook. How can I help you?”
“I said it’s me, you dork. You free tonight? I need pizza and girl talk.”
“Sounds serious.”
“Yeah, it’s pretty serious. So, you free?”
“I’ll be there at six.”
“Thanks. Bye.”
Thank goodness for friends willing to ride to the rescue. Mo’s shift at the post office ended about an hour before Addie closed the shop, so Mo was usually in charge of grabbing the food on nights like this. Although, there never had been a night like this before. Jason Miller hadn’t literally rolled into town before. This was going to call for lots of pizza.
Speaking of which . . . Addie opened her sack and stared dismally at the contents. Cold. Wilted. Shriveled. She had a microwave in the back, but it just wasn’t the same. With a sigh, she tossed the bag into the trash, then dug into the bottom of her purse for a granola bar. Men . . . ruining all her plans. And her lunch.
***
Seeing Addie again . . . Wow. Jason had forgotten how much she could get under his skin. He’d also forgotten the way her eyes twinkled when she thought she’d said something funny, and the way her hair looked like satin, and the way she smelled. There was this brand of perfume she used—it wasn’t really a perfume, he supposed, because it wasn’t heavy. Maybe it was more like a body wash or something. But she smelled like coconut, and he’d forgotten that smell until he was standing there, talking to her, and all the memories came flooding back. He remembered holding her for the first time and burying his face in her neck and just breathing her in.
And now he had to get it together because that was over. He’d write his article and get out of there, and then he’d try to move on all over again.
Except it wasn’t like he’d really moved on the first time.
He steered his truck into the KOA campground and checked in with a young woman who introduced herself as Liv, then pulled around to his spot and began setting up camp. As he took out the jacks and positioned them, he thought about the day he’d met Addie. They were both working at a Walmart in Boise. He was stocking shelves, and she was the greeter. She was absolutely perfect for that job. If you were a goofball teenager trying to play bumper cars with the motorized carts, she’d have you tossed out in two seconds flat. If you needed help with anything, she’d see to it personally, even if it meant escorting you to the incontinence product aisle because you got turned around in the pharmacy and couldn’t find it.
They’d both wanted more from their lives, and they’d both gotten it after a while, but she’d handled herself with good humor and grace, and he’d . . . well, he’d chafed a lot. She’d helped him find some of the joy in the journey everyone was always talking about, and he had to give her credit for the fact that he was now a successful writer for one of the nation’s top travel magazines. She’d encouraged him to go for it.
But he hadn’t encouraged her dreams, and that’s why they’d broken up.
He finished setting up the fourth jack and opened the door to his trailer, glancing inside to make sure everything had stayed in place during that day’s drive. The temperature had dropped quite a bit as he drove north, and Idaho winters were notorious for a reason. He wondered if his heater would be enough or if he should check into a hotel for the night. He’d play that by ear and see how everything came together as night fell.
He walked back up to the front of the campground, glad he’d brought along his heavy boots, and spoke to Liv through the glass window that separated her from the rest of the world. “There’s a hotel in town, right?”
“There are a few. Are you looking for something with a spa experience maybe, or something simpler?”
He raised an eyebrow. “I’m not sure I’m the spa experience type.”
She laughed. “I’m just saying, we have options. The Quinn family owns a great hotel here.” She grabbed a map and circled a location on it. “If you just want a bed and a shower, the Co-Z Inn is about a mile down this road.” She circled it as well. “Have you changed your mind about staying with us?”
“No, not at all. I’m just looking ahead at the weather. If it gets much colder, I might leave the trailer here—full price, of course—and head inside for a night or two.”
“That’s a good idea, especially if you’re not used to Idaho winters.”
“I used to live here. Well, Boise, actually.”
“So you really are used to Idaho winters, and that’s why you’re asking about hotels.” She laughed. “I recommend the Quinn hotel. You might not be into spa stuff, but the room service is excellent, and I’d commit murder for one of their mattresses. Well, not murder, but you know what I mean.”
“Thanks, Liv. I’ll keep that in mind.”
Jason crunched across the snow back to his trailer and finished hooking everything up. Once the heater was running, he’d be able to make a better decision. For now, he’d make a peanut butter sandwich and then plan out his attack. He’d visit a few businesses around town, see what made the place tick, interview a few residents and a few tourists, find something endearing to end the story with, and call it good. Maybe he’d run it past Addie first and make sure it met with her approval. He snorted. Yeah, like he’d really do that. After their not-so-joyful reunion just now, she wouldn’t be in any mood to praise him whatsoever. He’d be better off avoiding her at all costs. For both their sakes.
Chapter Two
Moni
que’s eyes hadn’t stopped bugging out of her head since Addie started her story. Finally, she held up both hands. “Wait. So, help me out here. Jason—the guy who totally broke your heart—is here in town? And you saw him? And talked to him?”
“Yes.”
“Well, lead off with that. I don’t need all the backstory about your letter to the editor. You’ve gotta give me the goods up front.”
“Sorry. I was trying to create a logical flow of narrative.”
Mo raised an eyebrow. “This is a conversation, not a book. So . . . he’s here. Do I get to meet him and see if he’s as hot as you’ve always said?”
“Oh, he’s hot all right. He’s even hotter than he was last time I saw him. Have you ever noticed that about guys? How they just get hotter as they get older?” Addie shook her head. “It’s entirely unfair.”
“Yes, I’ve noticed. That’s why I’ve always gone for older men.” Monique set her pizza plate down on the coffee table and tucked one leg up beneath her on the couch. “Okay, let’s hash this out. He’s here for a few days? A week, maybe?”
“However long it takes him to get the story.”
“Are we hoping he stays longer, or are we hoping he leaves sooner?”
Addie opened her mouth, then closed it again. “I don’t know. I mean, when I saw him, I wanted to push him out of the shop and lock the door behind him. But then I wanted to throw myself at him and kiss him silly. I’m so confused.”
“You wanted to kiss him? My, my. This is getting very interesting.” Mo gave her one of those looks—the looks that told Addie she was about to get interrogated. “You’ve never gotten over this guy.”
“No, I guess I haven’t. I thought I had, though—I mean, I was almost engaged last year, and I really loved that guy. I thought that meant Jason was out of my system, and then he comes walking in, and . . .” Addie pinched the bridge of her nose, trying to ease the headache building behind her eyes. “Does this mean I didn’t really love my last boyfriend? Or does it mean that I can be in love with two guys at the same time—which weirds me out, by the way. That just can’t be right.”
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